


Hollow Cast

by darkangel_silvermoon



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Eating Disorder, Evanescence, Gen, M/M, My Immortal - Freeform, Reid Dies, Sequel to come: After the Storm, Suicide, You Have Been Warned, song fic of sorts, trigger warning: suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:03:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel_silvermoon/pseuds/darkangel_silvermoon
Summary: Reid is tired, present tense.Reid was tired, past tense.Reid had been tired, future perfect tense.There will be no future.





	1. Weight of the World

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic Death scene. If gun violence, blood or suicide is you trigger please don't read.

Reid stares at his hands.

They tremble slightly as he places the envelopes on the mantel.

Three.

He's so heavy, it hurts to breathe; each beat of the heart feels as though a hole is gaping wider within him.

Reid is tired, present tense.

Reid was tired, past tense.

Reid had been tired, future perfect tense.

There will be no future.

He fingers his revolver, heavy in his grip; cool metal warming with his flaming touch.

There is no future.

It's all too much.

The nightmares hold him a lover's embrace, never letting go.

All the thoughts pressing against the back of his eyes that keep him awake at night, linger in the daylight.

There is no sleep anymore.

There are the cravings that burrow deep under his skin like termites gnawing contentedly at his heart until there is nothing left of him. For him.

Cravings for Dilaudid…cravings for food, water, the staples of life which are easy enough to fill, but Reid forgets sometimes…

Well, all the time now. He can't stomach it.

He's withering away.

Cravings for touch, simple skin on skin.

For contact to know that he's still here, he has something to hold on to. Morgan.

Love…he can't—

Reid is tired.

Bone weary and world dragging tired. He's had enough.

Tonight he will do what most people don't have the mind to do. 

Reid is tired.

A shaky hand lifts the Revolver, as he opens his mouth to receive it.

His gift. His way out.

The bitter tang of metal and gun powder fills his mouth, his nose, his eyes. He won't be a "pretty boy" any more, now will he?

**_Suppressed by all my childish fears… These wounds won't seem to heal,_ **

**_This pain is just too real,_ **

**_There's just too much_ **

**_That time can not erase_ **

He squeezes his eyes shut; tears linger on his cheek as his fingers contract.

Reid's not tired anymore.

///

The silence is deafening as you walk from room to room.

"Reid?" You call, but the only thing greeting you is stillness.

This isn't right.

Your stomach knots in fear.

You quicken your pace, your voice desperate as you call out for him again.

"Reid? Reid?"

You found him.

"Aww, no. No, No, No!" You sob out. "Come on, man. NO!"

His gun dangles from his clenched hand; his eyes milky white, his mouth filled with black.

NO.

White noise fills your head as you run to his side, gripping his lifeless body to you.

Your voice is stuck as you feel his body, cool and limp as you grip his neck you can feel the blood drip drip drip from the window blown wide in Pretty Boy's head.

This is only supposed to happen at some crime scene.

Not to you… not to him. Reid.

The room spins as everything fades to black.


	2. Eighteenth Floor Balcony

"Reid you okay?" Prentiss asks as Reid throws away an untouched coffee.

Reid stares at Prentiss, trying to decode her words.

There's a fog over him that he can't shake.

"Reid?" Her voice is tight with worry.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."

Reid mumbles to himself.

"I'm fine. Fine. 'm okay."

He gets up abruptly, and staggers to the bathroom.

He grips his sides as if he were coming apart at the seam.

He barely makes it to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall; he sinks to his knees, dry heaving until bile splatters into the bowl.

He hasn't eaten in days. There's no need.

"Kid you in here?" Morgan's voice fills the bathroom.

The smell of bile, florescent heat, and piss makes Reid's head spin.

Reid reaches and flushes watching the swirl of the bowl until all traces of sickness is gone.

"Reid, you okay?" Morgan's feet appear below the stall.

"Yeah, 'm fine." Reid says weakly.

"Open the door, Reid." Morgan presses against the door.

Reid pulls himself from the floor and unlocks the stall.

Morgan looks at Reid.

Really looks. His clothes drown him, wrist jutting out from his sleeves. He doesn't wear watches anymore; if he did people would know…

The circles under his eyes have become a deep bruise and his eyes are nothing more than hollow point bullets.

 This is not Reid.

Morgan's noticed that he's not his talkative self.

Cire Perdue… Hollow cast.

Reid is empty.

His skin's translucent and sickly under the florescent bulbs.

His hands flutter like lost birds as he tucks them under his sweater.

He shivers hard.

Let me go.

"Reid, come on, talk to me. Please?" Morgan's voice is small, hurt.

Reid squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a shuddery breath.

It's all too much.

**Your voice it chased away**

**All the sanity in me.**

"I'm sorry Morgan. I'm just a little under the weather is all. I think it's the flu." Reid can not look Morgan in the eye.

They both know he's lying.

"I just wanna go home and lie down." Reid whispers.

"Alright, Pretty Boy, let me take you"—Morgan says but Reid cuts him off.

"No. I'm fine. Really. Morgan, just let me…go." Reid says softly, pushing past Morgan.

 _I love you_. The words ghost from Reid lips as walks away, and Morgan stands stock still.

The bathroom door swings shut before Morgan jerks, chasing after Reid.

He's gone.

/// 

You stare at your bloody hands.

No.

It's his blood. His blood is on your hands.

You knew something was wrong and you didn't stop him.

If you could have gotten here in time you could have…

"Morgan? I'm sorry, he's…I"—Hotch places a firm hand on your shoulder.

You look down at your bloodied hands.

Your clothes…his blood.

It's his blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up"—Hotch starts.

"I could've stopped him. I was right there." You whisper.

"Morgan, we all saw the signs; we just didn't… it's hard when you're that close and…" Hotch is at a loss of words.

"He didn't want us to know." Hotch whispers.

"He could have come to me for anything, he knew that. I mean he stayed over at my place when he was struggling with drugs. When the nightmares got to him, he'd let himself into my apartment and curl up next to me and sleep. He had me." Your  heart aches .

He had you all that time; he should have known that you'd always be there.

That you loved him.

The tears well.

You try to push them down, but they come anyway, racking your body with choked sobs. You throat squeezes shut.

"I loved him more than he could have ever known, Hotch. I should have told him. I had him! I had him and I lost him, damn it Hotch!" You can't breathe as you try to twist away from the pain.

You can't breathe; you can't breathe as Hotch pulls you against him, suit wrinkling against the press of your face to his shoulder.

You loved him.

You love him still.

Sobs rack your body as you cry out.

Pretty boy; the Kid; Dr. Spencer Reid is gone.

"There was a note on the fire place. When you're ready, I think you should…" Hotch sighs as you straighten, trying to compose yourself.

Spencer Reid is not coming back. 


	3. Graceful Dancing

You sit on the edge of Reid's bed, rubbing the fringe of his favorite purple scarf.

" _Morgan, did you know that Purple symbolizes magic and mystery as well as Royalty?_

_Being the combination of red and blue, the warmest and coolest colors, purple is believed to be the ideal color._

_Violet is the color of purpose. Violet is associated with the Crown chakra (This links individual and universal)." Reid rattles off excitedly as you run circles with your thumb in the sc_ _arf._

_All you asked him was why the purple scarf…_

_You rolled your eyes and laughed. Only Reid could get away with something like that._

It still has Reid's scent _._

You wish you could stop up the smell in a bottle and keep it forever.

The smell of dusty books, caramel, coffee beans, aftershave, and something that's distinctly…Reid.

Reid's gone and the team put him in the ground today.

You held his mother's hand; she gripped it tight as you tried to hold on for her.

For yourself.

For Reid.

Reid's gone.

You hold the envelope in your hand the edges tickling your palm.

You can't get it out of your mind—black mouth, white eyes.

A window, a window blown wide.

Why?

Clooney snuffs, laying his large head in your lap. You scratch him behind the ear.

Clooney would curl up on your feet and Reid's as you went to sleep those nights Reid would come over.

Some days you would wake to your arm wrapped around him tight, him spooning against you.

Some days he would be staring at you wide eyed in…

Some days he would pad around and sometimes he would make coffee and you would sit across from him and drink your coffee together in silence.

You never anything.

Not a word; your voice sore and unused by the time you got to work.

You should have told him.

"I miss him too buddy." You whisper as Clooney whines.

The letter.

You carefully break the seal.

Your breathing mixes with Clooney's panting. It's too loud in this room.

It hurts to breathe.

_~~Morgan~~ ,_

_Derek,_

_You probably will be the one to find me, and I'm sorry for that. I truly am. But then again, it's a relief to know that you would care enough to check up on me._

_I'm…tired Morgan, and not enough sleep (or caffeine) in the world would affect this._

_I really screwed up. I don't know how I got this low._

_I knew that it was time to let go when my body stopped fighting. I can't eat…I haven't In a while._

_Look, I know you want answers._

_I do too. But I can't give them._

_I didn't want it to be this way, but I'm pretty sure that my rationalization is faulty at best._

_Even with me knowing that, it doesn't help._

_I can't keep struggling like this, something's got to give._

_I have to let go._

_Please don't be angry. I know that you think that all I had to do was come to you._

_I should have, but this has gotten too far, and I still don't. I didn't know how to ask for help._

_I should have told you everything, that I loved you more than you could ever know._

_What do you think, a man in love with his straight best friend? Right._

_Maybe things could have been different if I did learn to open up._

_I wanted to say thank you._

_Thank you for being there for me when I needed you to be. Thank you for wiping away my fears, letting me cry and scream without shame…thank you for just holding my hand and being there through all the rocky times._

_I couldn't ask for a better brother, best friend._

_This is something I have to do._

_I'm sorry that I'm putting you through this, but you're strong and will make it through._

_You have to._

_Please, don't shut the team out, we're a family. And even if I'm not there, we're still family no matter what, right Derek?_

_Thank you so much for everything…_

_Love,_

_Spencer_

 

You stare at the scrawl of Reid's writing.

 He probably used the fountain pen you gave him for Christmas last year.

His last Christmas…

You sigh, breath filling the room.

It feels heavy.

It hurts so much, and this letter does nothing to ease the pain…but you know Reid loved you.

That's going to have to be enough for now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly but surely editing my stories and moving my fics from Fanfiction.net to Ao3. (9 down, 60 to go!)  
> An alternate ending will be coming shortly.   
> Let me know what you think. Your thinly thoughts are greatly appreciated.


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